JULY 6

On the island's floating tree log
the cape winds wraps me
in her last shade of nature
at dusk playing a flute,
the sea ditch water smudges
on my bathing suit
striving to escape wild geese
near the wisteria covered road
with an empty monastery's silence
far from yesterday's
crowded energy
on the fast motioning trains
of shouting
in the city's hysteria
today choosing annunciation
to rest with fruit and fauna
enfolded in surrendered peace.